


Peck

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Hannibal gives Will a peck on the cheek, M/M, Utter Nonsense, What follows is a game of sexual chicken, Will goes into panic mode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13975059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: Will and Hannibal have settled into a routine in Croatia. When Hannibal gives Will a peck on the cheek one day, it knocks the empath for a loop. Is this brief affection a sign Hannibal wants more? Or is the encephalitis back? Only one way to find out...





	Peck

**Author's Note:**

> OK, so...I've dropped off the face of the earth for a bit, but hopefully I'm back-ish? The five cent recap is this: Everyone in my family had at least one medical crisis, culminating in me needing an organ removed (it was a little one, didn't even like the bugger anyways) and well...that takes a lot of time and mental energy. But everyone seems to be healthy-ish now and I'm back to writing utter nonsense about the two biggest murder nerds in the world. If for some reason you still remember my brand of crazy - welcome back! You did this to yourself. If you're new - Hi! This will be the silliest thing you've read all day.

          The first time it happened, Will was pretty sure the encephalitis had come back. He spent an hour checking and re-checking his temperature and peering around corners for ravenstags. He examined himself in the mirror and found his cheeks flushed red, though the thermometer said he wasn’t running hot.

          Will had been fiddling with an outboard motor that refused to turn over no matter what he did. He had moved the project from the living room to the garden when Hannibal had lifted his eyebrow at the flecks of rust falling on his reclaimed wood floors. Will’s hands were greasy and he was promising the rusted heap of junk that he was going to beat it with a wrench if it didn’t release a bolt when he smelled Hannibal’s cologne.

          “Still won’t listen to you?” Will startled slightly when Hannibal’s breath touched his ear. He hadn’t realized the doctor was so close.

          “Fucking thing hasn’t listened to me since I brought it home,” Will muttered, trying not to think too hard about how warm it had gotten.

          “Mmmm, I’m sure you’ll work it out. I’ve got a meeting at the cultural society tonight, I doubt I’ll be home before 11.”

          “Hmmm? Oh, fine. Lurch and I will have hotdogs.” The wolfhound looked up when his name was called, thumping his tail on the ground.

          “Poor Lurch, why punish him with meat byproduct? There are ground patties and cheese in the fridge, I’m sure he can talk you through the cooking process.” Will turned to sneer at Hannibal, but froze when he felt the touch. Hannibal’s lips pressed softly to his cheek, a fleeting caress that set Will’s whole body alight. “Have a good day, Will.”

          Will could only blink at Hannibal’s retreating face. The doctor turned and offered an affectionate pat to the dog. “Enjoy your day too, Lurch.”

          When the front door shut, Will uncoiled from around the motor, still staring into the middle distance. Lurch returned from seeing Hannibal off, settling by the empath and nosing at Will’s hand, which was still rubbing his cheek. Will turned to the dog.

          “Did he just fucking kiss me?”

          Lurch’s only response was to slurp at Will’s face, wiping away any evidence of Hannibal’s affection.

* * *

 

          The second time it happened, Will had almost convinced himself he imagined the initial incident.

          Will arrived to pick Hannibal up from the antique shop. It was Tuesday, they always lunched at Orsan before strolling the Dubrovnik docks. Will’s knack with engines had made him a popular figure among the commercial fisherman, who usually saved a few choice fish for the empath, who didn’t charge anywhere near what his repairs were worth.

          Hannibal’s shop was quiet, a woman hunched over a book by the register, but there was no cannibal in sight.

          “Hi Kata,” Will leaned on the counter. “He’s running late, isn’t he?”

          Kata beamed, carefully setting the ancient text aside. “Hello Mr. Collins! Laurence is cataloging a new shipment of teacups; would you like me to go get him?”

          “Teacups?”

          “Yes, from an estate sale. Several were chipped, but he bought the whole lot. He said they reminded him of you.”

          Will pursed his lips to keep himself from smiling.

          “JUST LET THEM SHATTER, LARRY, WE’RE GOING TO LOSE OUR DAMN TABLE!” Will shouted, winking at Kata when he heard Hannibal bump into something. “He giving you much trouble today?”

          “No! He let me have Friday off so I could go to Zagreb with my friends.” Kata blushed, fiddling with the binding of the book in her hands. “You have a lovely husband.”

          “He dresses like a sofa and alphabetizes our spice rack according to country of origin.” Kata giggled. Will inched forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial tone. “He’s pretty wonderful, but don’t tell him I said that.”

          “It would be a shame if anyone thought you liked me, wouldn’t it?” Hannibal brushed by Will as he handed Kata a ledger. “I’ve made my recommendations for price points here. Would you please label them and arrange the display as we discussed this morning? I think I may take the rest of the afternoon off.”

          Will thrilled at the heat coming from Hannibal’s proximity. He shifted slightly to drink more in. He started making plans for the rest of the day. Maybe they could explore the sea walls again, he had loved hearing Hannibal explain the history of the turret system. Will wondered if he had time to run home and grab Lurch - they could spend the day knocking around the old city as a family.

          “Of course! We have the buyer for the harpsichord coming in at three, are you sure I should broker that sale?”

          Hannibal reached over the counter, gently taking Kata’s hands in his. Will bit the inside of his cheek as he watched those beautiful thumbs rub comforting circles on the girl’s wrists. “My store is in excellent hands, my dear. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

          Leaning forward a bit more, Hannibal pulled her closer, pressing his lips to her cheek. “We’re off. If you feel uncomfortable, or have any questions, just call my cell.”

          Will felt every muscle in his jaw and neck tense. He wanted to cut the kissed flesh from Kata’s beautiful young face.

          He felt his lip curl when she returned the gesture. He had his answer to Hannibal’s sudden trend of affection. It was a European thing. They’d been living in Croatia for over a year, it made sense that Hannibal had gone back to the cultural norms he had grown up with. Nothing to worry about.

          _So why was he so fucking disappointed?_

          Will jumped when he felt Hannibal’s hands on his waist, pulling him backwards.

          “You’ll have to forgive him, Kata. He snarls when he’s hungry.” Will blinked at the voice in his ear. He hadn’t realized he’d been menacing the girl and quickly let his face fall into a sheepish grin. He was completely unprepared when he felt Hannibal’s lips on the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get you fed before you eat poor Kata.”

          Will turned to gape at Hannibal, allowing the doctor to lead him out of the shop with little resistance. He was whisked back to their car and Hannibal settled him into the passenger seat without comment.

          “Don’t kiss her again.” Will froze, hoping like hell he hadn’t said that aloud.

          Hannibal’s eyes caught Will’s, the doctor’s face cycling through about 8 emotions before returning to it’s normal serene mask.

          He nodded and started the engine.

* * *

 

          The third time it happened, Will decided he didn’t have to take this shit.

          It had been nine days since the last time Hannibal kissed his cheek. Will ran what he said to Hannibal over and over in his mind. He didn’t say _don’t kiss anyone_ he had just said _don’t kiss her_ , clearly, Will could still be kissed using those parameters.

          And yet, he was unkissed.

          Will had begun to tense every time the Hannibal left the house. The worst part of the kisses that never came was the crushing disappointment that washed over him every time Hannibal kept his lips to himself.

          Will would sit in the foyer with Lurch, both mournfully staring at the closed door. Lurch would chew his foot. Will would rub at his cheek.

          It was time for that sorry fucking display to end. Mental frustration was for people who didn’t murder and cannibalize the rude. So, Will bought a few chapsticks and came up with a plan.

          Hannibal was chopping what looked to be a mountain of herbs when Will wandered into the kitchen.

          “I’m going down to the docks to see about Andre’s motor. He said it stalled out and he had to use the backup.”

          Hannibal hummed, focused on his rhythmic chopping. Will moved closer.

          “Need anything while I’m out?”

          “If you remember, please pick up a Povitica loaf. Someone ate mine off the counter.”

          Will turned and frowned at Lurch, who thumped his tail excitedly at the attention. “Bad dog!”

          “I know it was you, Will. Lurch wouldn’t have thrown out the paper,” Hannibal looked over his shoulder. “Or left so many crumbs for me to clean.”

          Will shrugged, utterly caught.

          “Povitica, got it. I’ll be back in a few hours.” Will drew a deep breath and took the last step between them, pressing his lips to Hannibal’s cheek. “See you later.”

          To his delight, Will heard Hannibal’s knife rhythm falter as he rushed out the door.

* * *

 

          In the three months that followed, Will had to admit that his cheeks were well and thoroughly kissed.

          They pecked goodbye.

          They pecked hello.

          They had even begun pressing absent kisses to cheeks when leaving a room for a glass of water or to use the bathroom.

          It was utterly ridiculous. Will could acknowledge that logically. But that didn’t stop the little thrill he felt every time he pressed his lips to Hannibal’s cheek and angled his face for reciprocation.

          Though each soft touch from Hannibal felt wonderful, Will had begun to wonder if the doctor would be amenable to kissing other places on his body.

          He had almost brought it up, twice, but his nerve failed him. Will wasn’t entirely sure what he was asking for. _A real kiss? Maybe some light groping? Maybe some heavy groping? Maybe sex on the butcher block that had been featuring more and more in his dreams?_ There was a wide range of ideas rolling through Will’s mind at any given moment.

          They were strolling through the fish market one morning when Hannibal made the next move in their war of affection.

          Hannibal was commenting on the quality of the fish and running through possible menus for the week. Will was playing his favorite game - seeing how many times he could accidentally brush his hand against Hannibal’s in a minute. He was about to beat his personal record when Hannibal’s fingers captured his, squeezing softly.

          Will looked up, caught and flushing to the tips of his ears, only to find Hannibal turned away, examining a sole. For the rest of the morning, their hands stayed linked as they absently picked through the market.

           From that day forward, Will happily let Hannibal lead him by the hand wherever they went. Occasionally, when Hannibal would spend too long discussing a museum exhibition with a member of the cultural society, or haggling fruitlessly over persimmons at the market, Will would raise their joined hands and kiss the doctor’s knuckles. The act would immediately halt Hannibal’s thoughts and refocus him on Will.

          It worked like a charm.

          In fact, Will could swear Hannibal sometimes ranted just to get Will to kiss his knuckles. Not even Hannibal could argue about arugula for going on 30 minutes.

          Will had begun accompanying Hannibal to small social events, including the Zagreb opera, just so he had a chance to kiss those knuckles. He’d listen to Hannibal start to speak with a small smile, waiting for the slightest excuse to bring the doctor’s hand to his mouth.

          Hannibal always gave him one.

          Will knew, logically, he could just ask for what he wanted, but there was something rather fun about playing this game. They had used touch and subtle manipulation frequently in their relationship, but this was the first time Will didn’t dread the results. This felt fun – almost innocent. Sure, Will spent most nights picturing Hannibal’s mouth as he pleasured himself, but it was an innocent masturbation, filled with fantasies that hardly ever involved blood or killing.

* * *

 

          Around the six-month mark, Will was starting to get tired of innocent fun. He thought he’d sent a rather clear signal to Hannibal, but either the doctor was going to make him state his intentions, or he really was the dumbest genius cannibal that had ever lived.

          At parties, Hannibal had begun wrapping his arm around Will’s waist and pulling him close. The first time it happened, at a gala for the new exhibit in Old Town, Will had nearly choked on the prawn he was eating. His whole body was suddenly flush with heat radiating from Hannibal’s chest. The doctor’s hand stayed firmly on the knob of Will’s hip, anchoring them together while Hannibal continued talking as if he hadn’t noticed Will cough shrimp 10 feet across the room.

          It became the latest escalation in their war of tiny touches, and Will loved it. He loved the feel of Hannibal, solid and warm at his side. He loved the way Hannibal’s fingers flexed lightly on his hip as he talked, a thoughtless caress as he discussed Debussy or the latest trends in ceviche. He even loved the small smiles this absent affection would earn from those they were talking with. It was an odd thing to appreciate the scrutiny of others for once.

          But Hannibal’s volley needed to be returned and Will was at a loss when he tried to think of responses. He considered just grabbing Hannibal by those alpine cheeks and kissing him with everything he had. In all honesty, Will had considered that option quite a bit, especially when alone in his bedroom. But Will wasn’t quite ready to end the game and concede defeat.

          The answer presented itself during Will’s birthday party. A party that Will had barely protested because he knew it would give him ample opportunities for the touches he’d learned to crave. Will watched Hannibal chatting with their guests in the salon, regaling them with a tale of hunting traditions in the Ural Mountains.

          Will smiled, Hannibal had his audience wrapped around his little finger, as always.

          It would be a shame if something interrupted him.

          Will filled his glass, took a deep breath and crossed the room. Hannibal held out his hand for kissing, but Will dodged it, instead flopping himself down on the doctor’s lap.

          “Sorry, had to get a refill,” Will said, wiggling into a comfortable position on Hannibal’s thighs and taking a sip of whiskey. Every muscle on Hannibal’s body seemed to tense as he allowed the manhandling. Will turned to Hannibal once he was settled. “What are we talking about?”

          “I…” Hannibal looked up, pupils wide and expression lost. “I can’t seem to recall.”

          Will grinned, teeth sharp in the low light of their salon.

          After the birthday party, Will couldn’t seem to stop himself from sitting in Hannibal’s lap whenever the opportunity presented itself. He noticed with an arch of his eyebrow that the number of seats at their kitchen table was reduced to one the morning after the party. Hannibal must have hidden the other chair in the pantry before rushing back to his quiche. But if Hannibal wanted to make it easier for him, who was Will to complain?

          This was how Will found himself, a week later, chewing on a piece of bacon, happily perched on Hannibal’s lap. The cannibal absently stirred cream into his coffee as he read the local paper, head resting against Will’s shoulder.

          “It’s your turn, you know.” Will said as he tossed the last of the bacon to Lurch.

          “I assure you, I walked that conflagration of fur and dirt this morning,” Hannibal said, waving at Lurch. The dog wagged his tail at the attention. “I have the paw prints on my walking cardigan to prove it. If he needs a walk, it’s your turn.”

          “Your walking cardigan?” Will shook his head, waving his hands in the air. “Never mind, of course you have a walking cardigan. I was talking about the kissing.”

          “Kissing?” Hannibal’s lip curled and Will felt his heart jump. Hannibal pointed at Lurch, quickly retracting his finger when it was licked. “I will feed him, I will walk him, I will pet him if he’s still – but I refuse-”

          “Me, asshole! I’m talking about me.” Will moved to rise, but Hannibal latched onto his hips, tilting his head with an innocent expression.

          “Are you asking me to walk you?”

          “I’m saying it’s your turn.” Will sighed when he was met with a blank stare. “You kissed my cheek, so I kissed your cheek. You held my hand, so I kissed your hand. You put your arm around me, so I sat in your lap…”

          “And what, exactly, are you suggesting I sit upon, Will?”

          Will opened his mouth, there were so many possibilities. But what would saying them aloud mean? He snapped his jaw shut, frowning as heat rose in his cheeks.

          “I don’t know.” His voice sounded sullen.

          Hannibal sighed.

          “Will, I’m going to be late.” Hannibal’s hands shifted, and Will found himself unseated as Hannibal rose. Hannibal’s eyes stayed on the ground as he walked by, and Will realized his mistake: This wasn’t a game. Hannibal hadn’t been trying break Will, he’d been trying to gauge his reaction to tentative affection.

          Will snatched Hannibal’s wrist, yanking until the doctor was a breath away. “It’s your turn.”

          Hannibal’s eyes shot to Will’s mouth. “My turn to what?”

          “Take the next step.”

          “And that would be?”

          Will paused. The next logical step would be a proper kiss, but Will wasn’t in the mood for a step - he was in the mood for a leap. “Something without my pants on, I think.”

          Hannibal’s eyebrow ticked up, it was the same expression he gave Will when he found dog hair on the sofa. “If you wish me to press your pants, I’m afraid you’ll have to ask me before I’m ready to leave.”

          “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” Will rolled his eyes. Hannibal remained still, face resolute. “Fine. Blow me, Dr. Lecter.”

          “I assure you, that will take as long as the pressing of your pants,” Hannibal sniffed. “Perhaps if you had afforded me more time-”

          Will smiled. He could play lothario to a pouting maiden if that’s what Hannibal wanted. He leaned into Hannibal’s space, pressing himself against the doctor. He pecked Hannibal on the cheek, then pressed his lips to the soft flesh in a lingering touch. He trailed his lips along the fine bones there, getting drunk on the scent of Hannibal’s aftershave. Nipping at the side of Hannibal’s jaw, Will pressed his teeth harder into the soft flesh when Hannibal shuddered.

          “I bet I can find you the time,” Will whispered, his teeth catching just under the knob of Hannibal’s jaw. “Want me to?”

          The _yes_ , when it came, was more of a breath than a word. Will dropped to his knees in front of Hannibal, looking up at the doctor through his lashes. He ran his hands up Hannibal’s thighs, smiling at the strain in the powerful muscles. He let his right thumb catch over the bulge he found before dipping his hand into Hannibal’s pocket. He laughed when Hannibal frowned in confusion.

          Extracting Hannibal’s cell, Will sat back on his haunches, punching in a number. When Hannibal opened his mouth to object, Will held up a finger, silencing him.

          “Hello Kata! It’s Nick, Laurence’s husba- Yes, it’s nice to speak to you too…I was just calling to say Larry won’t be in today.” Will dodged Hannibal, who swatted at him when he heard the nickname. “No, no, he’s fine. He just owes me a blowjob. No no, it means oral sex in English too....yes, yes indeed. Apparently, it’ll take some time…You can handle the shop by yourself today, can’t you? You’re a gem…Oh, I’m pretty sure I’m going to have a nice day. You take care, too.”

          Will hung up the phone and tossed it to Hannibal. It hit the doctor’s chest and fell to the floor. "There, now you have all day."

          Hannibal snarled. “What will I say to her tomorrow?”

          “I don’t know what your watercooler gossip is like, Hannibal.” Will stood, making a show of brushing off his pants. “Maybe get a few pointers? It probably shouldn’t take you all day to make me come.”

          Hannibal froze, the dangerous stillness reminded Will of a cat tensing to pounce. Will piked forward, kissing Hannibal on the cheek and taking off for the cannibal’s bedroom.

          “Your turn!” He yelled over his shoulder, grinning when he heard Hannibal darting after him. 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Update:** Check out this [gorgeous piece](http://schnellertod.tumblr.com/post/171892789443/fan-art-for-a-very-sweet-fic-by-devereauxsdisease) by [Schnellertod](http://schnellertod.tumblr.com/)! It's better than the fic, honestly.


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